An Old-Fashioned Girl (17 page)

“No, you wouldn’t; you’d have whisked round the corner when you saw me coming, or have stared straight before you, utterly
unconscious of the young woman in the baggage wagon.”

Polly laughed in his face just as she used to do, when she said that, and, in spite of the doubt cast upon his courtesy, Tom
rather liked it, though he had nothing to say for himself but a reproachful —

“Now, Polly, that’s too bad.”

“True, nevertheless. You must come and see my pets, Maud, for my cat and bird live together as happily as brother and sister,”
said Polly, turning to Maud, who devoured every word she said.

“That’s not saying much for them,” muttered Tom, feeling that Polly ought to address more of her conversation to him.

“Polly knows what she’s talking about;
her
brothers appreciate their sisters,” observed Fanny, in her sharp tone.

“And Polly appreciates
her
brothers, don’t forget to add that, ma’am,” answered Tom.

“Did I tell you that Will was going to college?” broke in Polly, to avert the rising storm.

“Hope he’ll enjoy himself,” observed Tom, with the air of a man who had passed through all the mysteries, and reached that
state of sublime indifference which Juniors seem to pride themselves upon.

“I think he will, he is so fond of study, and is so anxious to improve every opportunity. I only hope he won’t overwork and
get sick, as so many boys do,” said simple Polly, with such a respectful belief in the eager thirst for knowledge of collegians
as a class, that Tom regarded the deluded girl with a smile of lofty pity, from the heights of his vast and varied experience.

“Guess he won’t hurt himself. I’ll see that he don’t study too hard.” And Tom’s eyes twinkled as they used to do, when he
planned his boyish pranks.

“I’m afraid you can’t be trusted as a guide, if various rumors I’ve heard are true,” said Polly, looking up at him with a
wistful expression, that caused his face to assume the sobriety of an owl’s.

“Base slanders; I’m as steady as a clock, an ornament to my class, and a model young man, ain’t I, mother?” And Tom patted
her thin cheek with a caressing hand, sure of one firm friend in her; for when he ceased to be a harum-scarum boy, Mrs. Shaw
began to take great pride in her son, and he, missing grandma, tried to fill her place with his feeble mother.

“Yes, dear, you are all I could ask,” and Mrs. Shaw looked up at him with such affection and confidence in her eyes, that
Polly gave Tom the first approving look she had vouchsafed him since she came.

Why Tom should look troubled and turn grave all at once, she couldn’t understand, but she liked to see him stroke his mother’s
cheek so softly, as he stood with his head resting on the high back of her chair, for Polly fancied that he felt a man’s pity
for her weakness, and was learning a son’s patient love for a mother who had had much to bear with him.

“I’m so glad you are going to be here all winter, for we are to be very gay, and I shall enjoy taking you round with me,”
began Fanny, forgetting Polly’s plan for a moment.

Polly shook her head decidedly. “It sounds very nice, but it can’t be done, Fan, for I’ve come to work, not play; to save,
not spend; and parties will be quite out of the question for me.”

“You don’t intend to work all the time, without a bit of fun, I hope,” cried Fanny, dismayed at the idea.

“I mean to do what I’ve undertaken, and not to be tempted away from my purpose by anything. I shouldn’t be fit to give lessons
if I was up late, should I? And how far would my earnings go towards dress, carriages, and all the little expenses which would
come if I set up for a young lady in society? I can’t do both, and I’m not going to try, but I can pick up bits of fun as
I go along, and be contented with free concerts and lectures, seeing you pretty often, and every Sunday Will is to spend with
me, so I shall have quite as much dissipation as is good for me.”

“If you don’t come to my parties, I’ll never forgive you,” said Fanny, as Polly paused, while Tom chuckled inwardly at the
idea of calling visits from a brother “dissipation.”

“Any small party, where it will do to wear a plain black silk, I can come to; but the big ones mustn’t be thought of, thank
you.”

It was charming to see the resolution of Polly’s face when she said that; for she knew her weakness, and beyond that black
silk she had determined
not
to go. Fanny said no more, for she felt quite sure that Polly would relent when the time came, and she planned to give her
a pretty dress for a Christmas present, so that one excuse should be removed.

“I say, Polly, won’t you give some of us fellows music lessons? Somebody wants me to play, and I’d rather learn of you than
any Senor Twankydillo,” said Tom, who didn’t find the conversation interesting.

“Oh, yes; if any of you boys honestly want to learn, and will behave yourselves, I’ll take you; but I shall charge extra,”
answered Polly, with a wicked sparkle of the eye, though her face was quite sober, and her tone delightfully businesslike.

“Why, Polly, Tom isn’t a boy; he’s twenty, and he says I must treat him with respect. Besides, he’s engaged, and does put
on such airs,” broke in Maud, who regarded her brother as a venerable being.

“Who is the little girl?” asked Polly, taking the news as a joke.

“Trix; why, didn’t you know it?” answered Maud, as if it had been an event of national importance.

“No! Is it true, Fan?” and Polly turned to her friend with a face full of surprise, while Tom struck an imposing attitude,
and affected absence of mind.

“I forgot to tell you in my last letter; it’s just out, and we don’t like it very well,” observed Fanny, who would have preferred
to be engaged first herself.

“It’s a very nice thing, and
I
am perfectly satisfied,” announced Mrs. Shaw, rousing from a slight doze.

“Polly looks as if she didn’t believe it. Haven’t I the appearance of ‘the happiest man alive’?” asked Tom, wondering if it
could be pity which he saw in the steady eyes fixed on him.

“No, I don’t think you have,” she said, slowly.

“How the deuce should a man look, then?” cried Tom, rather nettled at her sober reception of the grand news.

“As if he had learned to care for someone a great deal more than for himself,” answered Polly, with sudden color in her cheeks,
and a sudden softening of the voice, as her eyes turned away from Tom, who was the picture of a complacent dandy, from the
topmost curl of his auburn head to the tips of his aristocratic boots.

“Tommy’s quenched; I agree with you, Polly; never liked Trix, and I hope it’s only a boy-and-girl fancy, that will soon die
a natural death,” said Mr. Shaw, who seemed to find it difficult to help falling into a brown study, in spite of the lively
chatter going on about him.

Shaw, Jr., being highly incensed at the disrespectful manner in which his engagement was treated, tried to assume a superb
air of indifference, and finding that a decided failure, was about to stroll out of the room with a comprehensive nod, when
his mother called after him:

“Where are you going, dear?”

“To see Trix, of course. Good-by, Polly,” and Mr. Thomas departed, hoping that by the skilful change of tone, from ardent
impatience to condescending coolness, he had impressed one hearer at least with the fact that he regarded Trix as the star
of his existence, and Polly as a presuming little chit.

If he could have heard her laugh, and Fanny’s remarks, his wrath would have boiled over; fortunately he was spared the trial,
and went away hoping that the coquetries of his Trix would make him forget Polly’s look when she answered his question.

“My dear, that boy is the most deluded creature you ever saw,” began Fanny, as soon as the front door banged. “Belle and Trix
both tried to catch him, and the slyest got him; for, in spite of his airs, he is as softhearted as a baby. You see Trix has
broken off two engagements already, and the third time she got jilted herself. Such a fuss as she made! I declare, it really
was absurd. But I do think she felt it very much, for she wouldn’t go out at all, and got thin, and pale, and blue, and was
really quite touching. I pitied her, and had her here a good deal, and Tom took her part; he always does stand up for the
crushed ones, and that’s good of him, I allow. Well, she did the forsaken very prettily; let Tom amuse her, and led him on
till the poor fellow lost his wits, and finding her crying one day (about her hat, which wasn’t becoming), he thought she
was mourning for Mr. Banks, and so, to comfort her, the goose proposed. That was all she wanted; she snapped him up at once,
and there he is in a nice scrape; for since her engagement she is as gay as ever, flirts awfully with anyone who comes along,
and keeps Tom in a fume all the time. I really don’t think he cares for her half as much as he makes believe, but he’ll stand
by her through thick and thin, rather than do as Banks did.”

“Poor Tom!” was all Polly said, when Fan had poured the story into her ear, as they sat whispering in the sofa corner.

“My only consolation is that Trix will break off the affair before spring; she always does, so that she may be free for the
summer campaign. It won’t hurt Tom, but I hate to have him make a fool of himself out of pity, for he is more of a man than
he seems, and I don’t want anyone to plague him.”

“No one but yourself,” said Polly, smiling.

“Well, that’s all fair; he
is
a torment sometimes, but I’m rather fond of him in spite of it. I get so tired of the other fellows, they
are
such absurd things, and when Tom is in his good mood he is very nice and quite refreshing.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” said Polly, making a mental note of the fact.

“Yes, and when grandma was ill he was perfectly devoted. I didn’t know the boy had so much gentleness in him. He took her
death sadly to heart, for, though he didn’t say much, he was very grave and steady for a long time. I tried to comfort him,
and we had two or three real sweet little talks together, and seemed to get acquainted for the first time. It was very nice,
but it didn’t last; good times never do with us. We soon got back into the old way, and now we hector one another just as
before.”

Fanny sighed, then yawned, and fell into her usual listless attitude, as if the brief excitement of Polly’s coming had begun
to subside.

“Walk home with me and see my funny little room. It’s bright now, and the air will do you good. Come, both of you, and have
a frolic as we used to,” said Polly, for the red sunset now burning in the west seemed to invite them out.

They agreed, and soon the three were walking briskly away to Polly’s new home, in a quiet street, where a few old trees rustled
in the summer, and the morning sun shone pleasantly in wintertime.

“The way into my parlor

Is up a winding stair,”

sang Polly, running up two flights of broad, old-fashioned steps, and opening the door of a back room, out of which streamed
the welcome glow of firelight.

“These are my pets, Maud,” she added, pausing on the threshold, and beckoning the girls to look in quietly.

On the rug, luxuriously basking in the warmth, lay a gray kitten, and close by, meditatively roosting on one leg, stood a
plump canary, who cocked his bright eye at the newcomers, gave a loud chirp as if to wake his comrade, and then flew straight
to Polly’s shoulder, where he broke into a joyful song to welcome his mistress home.

“Allow me to introduce my family,” said Polly; “this noisy little chap the boys named Nicodemus; and this dozy cat is called
Ashputtel, because the joy of her life is to get among the cinders. Now, take off your things, and let me do the honors, for
you are to stop to tea, and the carriage is to come for you at eight. I arranged it with your mother while you were upstairs.”

“I want to see
everything,
” said Maud, when the hats were off, and the hands warmed.

“So you shall; for I think my housekeeping arrangements will amuse you.”

Then Polly showed her kingdom, and the three had a merry time over it. The big piano took up so much room there was no place
for a bed; but Polly proudly displayed the resources of her chintz-covered couch, for the back let down, the seat lifted up,
and inside were all the pillows and blankets. “So convenient, you see, and yet out of the way in the daytime, for two or three
of my pupils come to me,” explained Polly.

Then there was a bright drugget over the faded carpet, the little rocking chair and sewing table stood at one window, the
ivy ran all over the other, and hid the banqueting performances which went on in that corner. Bookshelves hung over the sofa,
a picture or two on the walls, and a great vase of autumn leaves and grasses beautified the low chimneypiece. It was a very
humble little room, but Polly had done her best to make it pleasant, and it already had a homelike look, with the cheery fire,
and the household pets chirping and purring confidingly on the rug.

“How nice it is!” exclaimed Maud, as she emerged from the big closet where Polly kept her stores. “Such a cunning teakettle
and saucepan, and a tête-à-tête set, and lots of good things to eat. Do have toast for tea, Polly, and let me make it with
the new toasting fork; it’s such fun to play cook.”

Fanny was not so enthusiastic as her sister, for her eyes saw many traces of what seemed like poverty to her; but Polly was
so gay, so satisfied with her small establishment, so full of happy hopes and plans, that her friend had not the heart to
find a fault or suggest an improvement, and sat where she was told, laughing and talking while the others got tea.

“This will be a country supper, girls,” said Polly, bustling about. “Here is real cream, brown bread, homemade cake, and honey
from my own beehives. Mother fitted me out with such a supply, I’m glad to have a party, for I can’t eat it all quick enough.
Butter the toast, Maudie, and put that little cover over it. Tell me when the kettle boils, and don’t step on Nicodemus, whatever
you do.”